


Bide, Lady, Bide

by DelphiPsmith



Category: Folk Songs, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Folk Music, Ministry of Magic, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphiPsmith/pseuds/DelphiPsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius has a cunning plan.  What will he do when it backfires?  (Original prompt contains what some might consider spoilers, so that's at the end).  Written for the 2013 <a href="http://sshg-exchange.livejournal.com">sshg_exchange</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bide, Lady, Bide

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** Blessings on [owlbait](http://owlbait.livejournal.com/profile) for multiple delightful prompts – I had more fun writing this than I ever thought possible. Thanks to my wonderful betas (you know who you are!), who saved me from clichés and bad Britishisms.
> 
>  **Additional Author's Notes:** There are many versions of the ballad _The Twa Magicians_ ; two great versions were given in the prompt; I've incorporated [my favorite](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HU0NqaWEBA4) as well. The first part of the text of the Ministry's announcement is taken directly from Margaret Sanger ("The Eugenic Value of Birth Control Propaganda," _Birth Control Review_ , October 1921, page 5) and Theodore Roosevelt (letter to Charles B. Davenport, January 3, 1913, Charles B. Davenport Papers, Department of Genetics, Cold Spring Harbor, N.Y.). Bonus points to anyone who figures out the significance of the Law's number ;)

Hermione peeked through the heavy drapes at the crowd of witches and wizards milling about the large stone-floored space. She knew the room only held forty-five people, but her apprehension multiplied their numbers by at least ten. "Harry, I can't do this."

Harry patted her shoulder. "Sure you can. They're just a bunch of academics."

"The most terrifying breed on the planet," she added in a dark tone. Her heart felt as though it were going to beat its way right out of her chest. How in the name of Hecate had she let Professor Binns talk her into presenting her paper this year? She hadn't done nearly enough research yet. Much better to have waited until next year. Or five years from now. Or ten.

"Just imagine you've cast _Evanesco_ on everyone's clothes."

She gave a shaky smile. "Oh yes, that'll calm me right down." At least the conference was at Hogwarts this year. On top of seven – well, six – years there as a student she now had four as a professor, so her surroundings were comfortingly familiar.

"Ginny's saving me a seat so I'd better go." He squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, you'll be brilliant."

When he was gone, Hermione looked down at the sheaf of parchment in her hand and re-read the title on the first page once more: "Appearances of the Wizarding World in Muggle Traditional Folk Ballads, presented at the CCLXIVth Annual Muggle Studies Conference by Hermione Jean Granger, DMS." The neat black letters on the creamy page soothed her. She took a deep breath, stepped out from behind the curtain and walked to the podium.

***

"...And so we can clearly see that the Muggle folk song _The Two Magicians_ meets all three of Professor Euhemerus' criteria for being an extrusion of the Wizarding world into the Muggle world: the story has no known Muggle origin and is found in no genealogy of Muggle folk songs or tales; it appeared essentially out of nowhere in its final form, rather than evolving gradually over time; and it describes a highly specific magic spell or event, of which there is a well-established identical or nearly identical parallel in the Wizarding world, in this case the Soul-Bond Test."

A warm ripple of applause and a murmur of conversation followed her conclusion and Hermione felt a deep sense of satisfaction. These were some of the best scholars in the Wizarding world, and while Muggle music wasn't exactly of earth-shattering importance, she was proud of her work.

"We have a few minutes left," the moderator's voice rose over the babble. "Are there any questions for Professor Granger?"

Hermione glanced around the room, finally able to let individual faces register now that she was more relaxed. Scanning the back row – late arrivals – her gaze was caught by a pair of ink-dark eyes set in a pale face surrounded by straight black hair. Something strange and not at all unpleasant happened in the pit of her stomach as their eyes met.

A waving hand in the back dragged her attention away. "Yes?"

A young blonde wizard stood up. "Could you elaborate on the Soul-Bond Test, Professor? What is it intended to prove, and how does it work?"

"Well, there's no evidence that it _does_ work, of course." Hermione flushed a little at having to discuss such nonsense. Just her luck that Snape would attend her first professional presentation, and the first question wouldn't be about her rigorous research but about the romantic silliness of soul-bonds. "The Soul-Bond Test is exactly what it sounds like: a test that purports to determine whether two people are well-suited to each other. Soul-mates, if you will. It is performed much as described in the song, although participants must drink a particular potion to initiate the test. The Muggle song doesn't mention that, perhaps because potions in Muggle folklore are often either poisonous or intended to compel a person to fall in love against their will." She made a mental note to investigate potions in Muggle literature for another paper. "The purpose of the potion is to heighten the participants' sensitivity to each other's magic. Then, just as in the song, the witch transfigures herself into various things, and the wizard in turn changes himself into something that either matches or complements her choice. The closer the match between the transfigurations, the more compatible the two people. The song offers an example of a particularly well-matched pair: at the beginning it's the female magician who spurns the male magician's advances, but in the end he transforms himself into a woman while she changes into a man and, er, takes the initiative."

Laughter rippled through the crowd at her polite euphemism. Another voice called out, "Has anyone ever tried it?"

"I'm quite certain there are better ways to determine compatibility than a potion-fueled Transfiguration contest," she replied tartly, drawing another laugh from the audience. "Despite this, as I'm sure many of you know, the Soul-Bond test is sufficiently embedded in Wizarding lore that it is traditionally included as a rider in any laws relating to marriage."

The moderator stepped forward. "Thank you, Professor Granger, for a very interesting paper. There is growing interest in the field of Muggle folk music, and if your work is a representative sample, the level of scholarship is impressive."

As the room emptied Hermione tried – without being obvious – to see whether the tall dark-haired man was still standing against the back wall, but there was no sign of him.

***

A tall aristocratic-looking man of about fifty, impeccably dressed in black robes and with long blond hair, both of which he wore with an air of conscious grace, had been observing the same dark-haired man who had caught Hermione's attention. Lucius Malfoy had known Severus Snape for more years than he cared to admit to, and that combined with the skills he had honed under Voldemort in reading the hopes and fears of others suggested something rather interesting to him. When Snape left the room while Hermione was still answering the first question, Lucius slipped out to accost him – genteelly, of course – in the hallway.

"Leaving so soon, Severus?" he inquired.

Snape stopped and eyed him. "Lucius. What brings you here, of all places? Surely you have no interest in Muggle Studies."

Lucius waved an elegant hand. "Simply assessing the competition, Severus. Evaluating whether the current climate of intensive Muggle cooperation is permanent, or nothing more than a passing phase."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "It may prove permanent for some, including you, given the recent Marriage Law."

"Speaking of marriage, Severus," Lucius said, his grey eyes bright with interest. "Let us discuss the look on your face a few moments ago while the very capable Miss – I'm sorry, _Professor_ – Granger was speaking."

Severus' face grew, if possible, even stonier than usual. "Let us not." He turned and began walking away down the hall.

Lucius followed without haste, but keeping pace with his friend. "Don't be tiresome, Severus. You were a double agent for a dozen years, but that was a long time ago. You've rather lost your touch for deception."

"It was a skill I was glad to let rust," Severus retorted. "You, on the other hand, have honed yours sharper than ever. I understand, for example, that you...persuaded the Ministry to rescind the severest of the penalties against you. And to offer you a job."

"It's all in how one presents one's case," Lucius agreed airily. "But we were talking about you, not me. Specifically, your opinion of the paper you just heard."

"It was impressive." His flat tone gave away nothing.

"Indeed. And what is your opinion of the scholar herself?" Lucius asked softly. "The brightest witch of her age, or so we have repeatedly been told. Does she live up to the accolade?"

Lucius noted a flicker of what might have been pain in the dark eyes that gazed fixedly ahead. "I do not wish to discuss Professor Granger."

As they drew even with a small wooden door set in the right-hand wall, Lucius put a hand on Severus' arm. "Wait." He opened the door, revealing a small, cozy sitting room with a fireplace flanked by two deep leather chairs, and drew the other man inside.

Severus made only a token protest, which confirmed Lucius' suspicions that the man was ready to talk. When they were seated comfortably, with house-elf-supplied cups of tea steaming on the little table beside them, Lucius broached the subject again.

"Come now, Severus," he said, and his voice lost its teasing note and took on a serious one. "I know how you feel about her. You deny it, but your every action shouts it for anyone to hear. You've written reference letters that got her access to some of the finest collections of magical incunabula in the world, things that Binns would have given his eye teeth to see, if he still had them. You've read all her papers. Circe's tits, you let her read _yours_ , which you've never let anyone do as long as I've known you. Behind the scenes you've ensured that the right people see her work, by which you've probably saved her ten years in her career, if not more. And whenever the two of you are in the same room you follow her with your eyes—"

Severus had been silent throughout this recital of evidence, but at this he let out a snort. "Don't be ridiculous. I do no such thing."

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Don't lie to me, Severus, or at the next Ministry function I'll cast an _Oculus Indexum_ on you so that everyone will be able to see exactly where you're looking."

An uneasy expression crossed Severus' face. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I? You know me better than that."

Severus took a deep breath, turning his teacup absently in his fingers. "Very well. Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I have...that I am..." He made a helpless gesture.

For a moment Lucius considered commenting on the irony of a man whose voice had always been his finest weapon being at a loss for words, but in the end he refrained. "Severus, if there's one thing our experience with Voldemort taught me, it's the value of love. If I had loved my family more than my ambition, I would never have put Draco in danger. Narcissa would not have divorced me. I would not have gone to prison. I would not now be alone in a manor that oppresses me with its weight of history." He gave a wry smile. "Did you know that Draco has taken his mother's maiden name? The noble House of Black lives on, while the disgraced House of Malfoy may die with me. Think how pleased Bella would be if she knew."

"I didn't know. Lucius, I'm sorry." There was genuine compassion in Severus' voice, and Lucius wondered briefly if anyone other than himself would ever hear such a thing.

He shrugged. "What matters, in the end, is that Draco's happy. Which is what I'm trying to tell you. Don't let a chance at happiness slip away from you, Severus. You of all people deserve it."

After a long moment, Severus said, "Yes, I admit it. She is...brilliant. A mind that grasps the subtlest distinctions, which it has been a joy to teach and watch unfold, matched with a courage and grace that..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "I have no reason to believe she considers me anything but a colleague, at best." He swirled the liquid in his cup, as if hoping the tea leaves would reveal some secret, then swallowed it in one gulp. "Love is all very well, but humiliation is not an experience I'm eager to repeat. I had enough of that in school." 

The tone of genuine longing in his voice took Lucius by surprise. "Stranger things have happened," he said gently.

"Strange, perhaps, but not miraculous." Severus studied the flames in the fireplace moodily. "But it doesn't matter. It's too late. It's always been too late, and now that—" He checked himself. "She is years younger than I am, and has many other choices."

"Fewer now that the Marriage Law has passed," Lucius pointed out.

At that Severus' expression lost its openness and returned to its familiar lines of rigid control. "I see no point in continuing this conversation." He stood up. "If you will excuse me, I have promised to meet Herr Doktor Gemisch to discuss his recent research into the effects of plastic containers on the efficacy of potion ingredients." He stalked out.

Lucius lingered, finishing his tea thoughtfully. A Malfoy never turned from a challenge, and he was quite sure he had just been presented with one.

***

Hermione met Harry, Ginny and Luna in the Great Hall for lunch after her presentation. It took her several minutes to find them, as the tables were packed with witches and wizards who apparently hadn't seen each other since the CCLXIIIrd Annual Muggle Studies Conference and were catching up on a year's worth of conversation.

"Great job, Hermione!" Ginny said, with a quick hug. "We always knew you were brilliant, and now everyone else knows it as well."

Luna – as usual – had her nose buried in the latest issue of her father's paper, but she raised her head as Hermione sat down. "Yes, that was very clever of you to mention the Marriage Law and connect it to current events," she said.

"What current events?" Harry asked, forking a slice of roast beef onto his plate.

"It's right here in _The Quibbler_ ," Luna continued. She flipped the paper over to show them the lead headline, which screamed " ** _WIZARDS FORCED TO MARRY MUGGLES!!!_** " 

Hermione snatched the paper from Luna's hands. "They didn't pass it?!" she gasped, a tiny ball of panic fluttering in her stomach. There had been rumours for months that a Marriage Law would be passed, but she hadn't allowed herself to believe it would actually happen.

"Oh yes," Luna said calmly. "They've falsified all the supporting evidence of course, because it's really a conspiracy to weaken the Wizarding public so they can't—"

"What does it say?" Ginny interrupted anxiously. "Read it."

"It's an announcement from the Ministry," Hermione said, and began to read aloud:

> _"The unbalance between the birth rate of the wizard and the Muggle world is the greatest present menace to Wizarding civilization. It is time that we realize that the prime duty, the inescapable duty of the good citizen of the Wizarding type is to leave his or her blood behind him in the world. The emphasis must be laid on getting witches and wizards to marry and produce magical children. But how may we best accomplish this? Contrary to what many have assumed, the solution is not to marry Pureblood with Pureblood. This has been our custom for many centuries, and indeed has been a source of great prejudice against those born to Muggle parents, or those of mixed parentage. But the evidence clearly shows that this tradition has resulted not in a purification and refining of magical power, but in a weakening of our strength and a drastic reduction in the birth rate."_

"Low birth rate!" Harry elbowed his wife. "Couldn't prove it by your family, eh, Gin?"

"Shut it, you." She smacked him, then turned back to Hermione. "Go on."

" _This drop in the birth rate of magical children,_ " Hermione continued, " _has been accompanied by a corresponding increase in the rate of Squib births. The solution, therefore, is clear: our pure Wizarding bloodlines must be strengthened by an infusion of Muggle-born heritage._ "

"Does it say what the exact requirements of the Law are?"

Hermione knew Ginny was thinking of some of the wilder rumours – that existing marriages of less than three years would be dissolved, or that grandparents as well as parents would be considered in evaluating whether someone qualified as Pureblood. She scanned quickly down the page until she found the details. "Anyone who's already married is exempt." She heard Ginny exhale in relief. "So is anyone who's engaged."

"Yes," Luna said. "Rolf was quite pleased about that."

"Rolf was pleased? What about you?" Hermione asked, amused in spite of herself at Luna's cavalier attitude towards her fiancé. 

Luna shrugged. "Oh, I would have made him take me to Australia and get married there."

Harry paused in mid-chew. "But Hermione, you're not engaged or married. That means..." he trailed off.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, it means."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, you're so thick sometimes. Is this really only just now occurring to you?"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I just never thought it would actually pass. So what are you going to do?"

Hermione was saved from having to answer by the eagle owl that fluttered to the table in front of her. It stuck its leg out politely and waited while she untied and read the message.

"They're very efficient, aren't they?" she said with a trace of bitterness in her voice. If she and Ron had stayed together she'd be safely engaged, if not already married, and none of this would matter. Well, it would, of course, because it was still a grossly ridiculous and unfair law, but it wouldn't matter to her _personally_.

She held out the parchment so they could see the neat script:

> _The Ministry requests the presence of Miss Hermione Granger at 3pm on Thursday, 18 October, to discuss her situation relative to the recently-passed Marriage Law._

***

The following Thursday Hermione Floo'd into the Ministry at five minutes to three, presented her wand to the witch at the reception desk, and was directed to an office on the second level. She had thought she was prepared for this meeting, but when she stepped through the door and saw who sat behind the desk, her stomach sank and she was instantly on her guard.

"Lucius Malfoy. Don't even try to tell me this is a coincidence!" 

Lucius raised his eyebrows. "Of course not." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit down."

She crossed her arms. "I'd rather stand, thank you. I don't plan to stay long. Get on with whatever you have to say."

"How very hasty and unladylike," he tsk'ed in mock disapproval. "However, if you insist." He slid a neat pile of parchment across the table towards her. "I have compiled this list of eligible wizards with whom you are likely to be at least marginally compatible. As the Muggles say: pick a card, any card."

She stared at the thick sheaf of pages. "Don't be ridiculous." Her gaze dropped to the top sheet and she read the name at the top, and icy fury washed over her. " _You?_ You have the nerve to propose _yourself_ as a potential husband?"

"But of course," he said smoothly. "Narcissa divorced me two years ago, meaning that I am once again a single wizard. I believe I am considered quite a good catch," he added with a malicious grin.

"Never in a million years," she snapped. She ripped the sheet in half and flung the pieces to the floor, taking a grim satisfaction in the vexation that flashed across his face at this flagrant disrespect.

He shrugged. "As you wish. Take the next one then."

The name at the top of the next sheet was Severus Snape.

For a moment Hermione couldn't move. Her mind flashed back to spirited lunchtime debates over aspects of potions theory, the glow of satisfaction the first time he accepted a suggestion she had made about one of his papers...his appreciation of her intellect, expressed at first hesitantly, then more openly...the enticing scent that clung to his robes, a sweetness of crushed herbs underlaid with the tang of brazier smoke...the unexpected heat that flooded her when they sat beside each other and his thigh pressed against hers...dark eyes across a crowded room...

She realized that her fingers were tracing the curved letters of his name, and dropped her hand to her side. "No," she said. "I can't think of anything more likely to inspire hatred in a man like Sev—Professor Snape than being compelled to do something."

"Under the circumstances, I'm sure he would—"

"I will not," she said flatly. "He spent more than ten years with his every move controlled and dictated by either Dumbledore or Voldemort. I won't be a party to forcing him into...anything." She looked up and saw that Lucius was watching her closely, his expression unreadable.

"I see," he said after a moment. "Well, the Ministry is quite serious about increasing the Wizarding population and the penalties for noncompliance are severe. I suggest, Miss Granger, that you review these names carefully and try to find one that you do _not_ mind being compelled into wedlock with." She flushed at the sarcasm in his last words, but took the pile of parchment. "We will expect your owl within the week."

When she had gone, Lucius leaned back in his chair. All things considered, this had been a remarkably...informative interview.

***

_Friday, 19 October_

_Dear Miss Granger,_  
 _Please remove the attached 15 names from your pool of eligible wizards, as we have received and processed their applications this morning and they are now partnered with suitable witches._  
 _Sincerely,_  
 _Lucius Malfoy, Compliance Officer_

_Sunday, 21 October, 9am_

_Mr Malfoy:_  
 _Please find attached the appropriate forms for myself and Romain Delacour, pursuant to Wizengamot Statute 116. I have not met the man in question but his sister Fleur assures me he is very nice, and as he intends to remain in France and I in England, I trust we shall not inconvenience each other too much._  
 _H. Granger_

_Sunday, 21 October, 2pm_

 _Miss Granger,_  
 _I am distressed to have to inform you that your application has been rejected. In a late session on Saturday evening the Wizengamot passed an amendment to W.S. 116 stating that marriages must be arranged between citizens of the United Kingdom – that is, England and Scotland.* Obviously, this invalidates Monsieur Delacour as a candidate. Pursuant to this, please also remove the attached 28 names from consideration._  
 _Sincerely,_  
 _Lucius Malfoy, Compliance Officer_  
 _*N.B. Oh, and Wales, of course. My apologies to any Cymric candidates you may be considering._

_Tuesday, October 23_

 _Mr Malfoy:_  
 _Please find attached the appropriate forms for myself and Neville Longbottom, pursuant to W.S. 116. He's quite despondent over Luna's engagement to Rolf Scamander, and friendship isn't the worst foundation for a marriage._  
 _H. Granger_

_Wednesday, 24 October_

 _Dear Miss Granger,_  
 _Although Mr Longbottom does come from a fine and ancient British Wizarding family, the Wizengamot recently passed a second amendment to W.S.116 stating that in order to increase genetic diversity, marriages must be cross-generational. This has been defined as at least 15 years' difference in age. Unfortunately, this has resulted in your application being rejected._  
 _With regrets for any inconvenience,_  
 _Lucius Malfoy, Compliance Officer_

_Friday, 26 October_

 _Mr Malfoy:_  
 _I don't believe you "regret any inconvenience" at all. I think you enjoy it thoroughly. However, please find attached the appropriate forms for myself and Angus McGonagall, pursuant to W.S. 116. Mr McGonagall is a cousin of Professor Minerva McGonagall, presently Headmistress of Hogwarts. He certainly meets all your qualifications, being a hundred and twelve years old, and since he is as disgusted as I am by this ridiculous law, at least we have a common basis to build upon._  
 _H. Granger_

_Saturday, 27 October_

 _My dear Miss Granger,_  
 _Angus McGonagall is indeed a Pureblood but his name was not on your list. His incapacity in certain areas due to an unlucky unicorn injury is common knowledge. Since the goal of W.S. 116 is to increase the Wizarding population, one might think you were attempting to comply with the letter of the law without the least intention of complying with its spirit. Surely a Gryffindor would never stoop to such Slytherin tactics!!_  
 _To avoid such misunderstandings in future, the Wizengamot this morning passed a third amendment to W.S.116 stipulating that the applicant couple must be physically able to conceive and bear children. Pursuant to this, please remove the attached six names from your pool of candidates._  
 _Regards --_  
 _Lucius Malfoy, Compliance Officer_

_Monday, 29 October_

 _What is this nonsense about amendments, Malfoy? It smacks of your engineered ousting of Dumbledore during our second year, which I seem to recall involved threatening members of the Board of Governors. Rest assured that if I find proof that you are engaging in such schemes again, Rita Skeeter will have the evidence before you can say Crumple-Horned Snorkack._  
 _I am considering my options._  
 _H. Granger_

_Tuesday, October 30_

 _Miss Granger –_  
 _Our records show that, given the amendments passed and the resulting invalidation of candidates, you in fact have only two options: myself, or Severus Snape. For your convenience in filling out your application, my middle initial is 'A'._  
 _Yours in anticipation --_  
 _Lucius A. Malfoy, Compliance Officer_

***

"I fail to see why you insisted on my presence this evening, Lucius." Severus paced the Oriental carpet in the Manor library with annoyance. "I have an experiment in progress which is about to come to fruition and I am most interested in the results."

"What a coincidence," drawled Lucius. "So have I."

The other man stopped and gave him a sharp look. "What are you scheming now?"

"Scheming?" Lucius opened his eyes wide. "You wound me. I'm only interested in your welfare."

Severus dropped into a chair like a crow settling into its nest. "If you're going to be elliptical, I'm going to need a drink."

"Of course." Lucius rang for a house-elf, and a moment later they each had a glass of 20-Year Basilisk's Eye. "Now then, you are aware of the recent Wizengamot legislation regarding marriage between Purebloods and Muggleborns."

"Obviously," Severus said curtly, and took a healthy drink from his glass.

"Then you also know the Ministry has set a rather short deadline, hoping to pair off suitable candidates as quickly as possible."

"Your point being?"

"Your Miss Granger is being remarkably stubborn."

"She is not _my_ Miss Granger," Severus pointed out, though Lucius thought he lingered just a little on the possessive pronoun.

"She could be."

"She could not." 

"She already is."

Severus stared as though hit by a _Petrificus Totalis_. "What..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "What do you mean by that?"

Lucius took a sip of Basilisk's Eye, savouring the moment as much as the whiskey. Severus had such an array of defenses that it wasn't often one saw him wrong-footed. "I have it on the best authority that your interest in her is thoroughly and comprehensively reciprocated."

Severus licked his lips. "You are joking."

"I am not. She is playing games with the Ministry, refusing to comply with the law, to the point that she may in fact be endangering her career. The penalties for non-compliance are...severe. The solution seems obvious."

"What solution?"

" _You_ make an offer for her."

Severus looked away. "Don't be absurd. I have no interest in marrying, and if I did I certainly would not choose Herm—" He stopped. "Miss Granger."

Lucius shook his head. "We've been through this, Severus. And I know you too well."

"Even if that were the case – and I don't for a moment admit that it is – surely an alliance forced upon one by the machinations of the Ministry is hardly the basis for a viable relationship."

Lucius waved off his objections. "Don't be so modest. You've always underestimated yourself. Besides, now you're a bloody war hero."

"I don't care for hero worship; it comes with a built-in expiry date. Sooner or later they find out you put your robes on one arm at a time and then the bloom is off the rose, as it were. I've seen a few too many heroes with feet of clay to want to put myself in such a position."

Lucius heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Have you not listened to anything I've said?" he demanded. "She wants you. More than that, she _loves_ you, strange as that may be to contemplate. And I've certainly done my best to make you her most attractive option."

" _You've_ done..." Severus raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Believe me," Lucius went on, ignoring the dangerous glint in Severus' eye, "it wasn't easy to persuade the Ministry to sign off on some of these amendments. Particularly the nationalist one. Dumbledore's idiotic platitudes about the world being one big happy Wizarding family seems to have infected a remarkably large –"

"Lucius." Severus spoke slowly and carefully, as if controlling the urge to shout. "Are you trying to tell me that _you_ are behind the Marriage Law?"

"You flatter me," Lucius said with a smirk. "The law was passed simultaneously in six countries. Even my legendary, er, charm couldn't have accomplished that. But the law specifically permits signatory countries to pass local variations and embellishments. I admit, with some pride, to being the author of every one of England's various amendments." He rose and sketched a small bow. "You may thank me."

"For what?" Severus' voice was bitter. "None of this has any bearing on me whatsoever."

"Of course it does," Lucius said impatiently. "You love her. She loves you. You're both too stubborn to admit it, and I've handed you a golden opportunity to get past your mutual pig-headedness."

Severus got up from his chair and began to pace again, his black robes swirling around his legs. "You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. You've always been reputed to be an intelligent man, Severus, why in Merlin's name is this so bloody difficult?"

With a convulsive movement Severus hurled his glass against the stone fireplace, scattering sparkling shards across the hearth. "Because, gods damn it, I'm not a Pureblood!" he shouted furiously.

Lucius stared. "You...what?"

"Are you deaf? I'm not a Pureblood! My father was a Muggle!" Severus stared blindly ahead of him, fists clenched as though to do battle with something only he could see. "The day that law passed, I lost any chance I might have had..."

"But..." Lucius' mind scrambled frantically to assimilate this. "But I thought your father was a Squib. The right bloodline, but no power."

"Of course you thought that." Severus sank into the chair, head bowed. "Everyone thought that. With Voldemort's vicious attitude towards Muggles it wasn't exactly something I wanted to become public knowledge."

"Did he know?"

Severus ran a hand through his hair, his face distracted. "I don't know. I think so. But scrutiny of my background might have prompted awkward questions about his own. After all, he himself was passing as Pureblood. I suppose he thought it better to let sleeping snakes lie." A pained smile twisted his lips. "So you see, regardless of how much I might like to save Hermione from your clutches, I am in fact, ineligible." He spread his hands, palm out, in a gesture of helplessness.

"Save her from _me_?" Lucius shouted. "Bloody hell, what about saving _me_ from _her_?"

"Come now, it's the duty of all good witches and wizards, etcetera, etcetera," Severus said, with more than a touch of malice.

"Bugger that," Lucius said rudely. "All that hair and brains..." he shuddered. "You've got to help me."

Severus shrugged. "I'm sorry, Lucius. You set up this knot, and then pulled it tight round yourself. Unless there's some sort of loophole you've overlooked, Malfoy Manor will soon have a new mistress."

***

_Wednesday, 31 October_

_Miss Granger –_  
 _Due to unforeseen circumstances, your pool of available candidates has been reduced to one: myself. I am not accustomed to requesting favors, but might I ask you to join me for dinner this evening, so that we may discuss this like civilized people?_  
 _Lucius Malfoy_

 

Hermione crumpled the parchment, a sick feeling coiling in her stomach. She had told Lucius the truth two weeks ago, she reminded herself; nothing would persuade her to join the ranks of those who had forced Severus Snape to do something against his will. But _he_ might have chosen...

No, it had been a ridiculous hope. That he respected her intelligence, she had no doubt; that he enjoyed her company seemed undeniable, but their meetings were infrequent and always in public places. And surely if he cared for her as more than a friend he would have said something _before_ the law was passed, when they were both able to act freely?

And now, his name had been removed. She wondered who he had chosen to marry, whether this unknown witch would understand him, be patient with his frequent dark moods, appreciate the sardonic wit that was both his weapon and – for Hermione, at least – part of his appeal.

Whether she would give him children.

Whether she would love him.

Hermione shook her head sharply. Enough of this mooning about, it couldn't be helped now. Her heart would no doubt heal in time, even if at the moment it felt as though it had just been _Sectumsempra_ 'ed. Now, she had to consider what to do about Lucius Malfoy – Lucius _A._ Malfoy, she corrected herself dryly. Marrying him was out of the question. (She stifled a small voice that said, _Are you sure? He is quite handsome. And rich. And that hair..._.) Decidedly out of the question: some things could be forgiven in the interests of peace and post-war healing, but they could never be forgotten.

Her only option, then, was to leave England. The Wizarding community in most other countries had passed Marriage Laws similar to Britain's but they enforced them only on their own citizens, and since avoidance of W.S. 116 was a civil offence, not a criminal one, there was no danger she would be extradited. Any country was open to her. She could go to Australia; her parents had declined to return to England so she would have family nearby, and the Woolloomooloo Wizarding Academy was looking for a lecturer in Muggle Studies. Or, if that were too far away, France: the Bibliotheque Alençon in Normandy was rumored to have a large collection of rare texts accessible only to magical researchers. And the Appalachian region of America was rich in folk songs, perhaps she could continue her research there...

Regardless of her ultimate destination, she would have to tell Lucius she was leaving. Her innate sense of honor and courtesy wouldn't let her flee like a thief in the night. She dashed off a quick note accepting his invitation in as few words as possible, and dispatched it.

***

Hermione arrived at the Manor promptly at seven o'clock and was shown into a small – and surprisingly pleasant – sitting room. A fire burned in the hearth, several elegant but comfortable chairs sat here and there, books were piled on the ottoman, and the paintings on the walls portrayed peaceful country scenes rather than condescending Malfoy family ancestors.

She had dressed carefully that evening, choosing robes of wine-dark red velvet with gold accents – Gryffindor colours to give her courage – and felt a twinge of satisfaction at Lucius' appreciative glance as he rose to greet her.

"Welcome to the softer side of Malfoy Manor, Miss Granger," he said, tacitly acknowledging their mutual memories of her last experience in this place. "A glass of wine?"

"Thank you." She eyed the mahogany side table, which bore two silver platters of cheese and biscuits, a bowl of fruit, and several bottles of wine. Lucius chose one of them and began to pour. "How much are you expecting me to eat?" she questioned. "I hope the house-elves' work won't go to waste."

"One or two others will be joining us shortly," he admitted, handing her a filled goblet. "I invited you to arrive early, so that we might have a chance to discuss our...situation."

Hermione took a swallow of wine. "Mr Malfoy –"

"Please, call me Lucius. Given our impending, er, intimate relationship, surely we can dispense with formalities?"

"Fine." she said through clenched teeth, "Lucius. I came tonight simply out of courtesy to tell you that I intend to leave England tomorrow. Permanently, or until this silly Marriage Law is repealed."

His eyes widened in mock hurt. "Really, my dear, one would almost think you didn't want to marry me."

"Almost?" Honestly, the man's gall knew no bounds. "In that case, let me remove any doubt: I wouldn't marry you if you were the last wizard on earth!"

"Oh, not the last." He picked up a cracker and topped it with a slice of brie. "Merely the last single fertile British Pureblood wizard of my generation."

"I'd rather marry a goblin."

He raised an eyebrow. "I would have expected Minerva to have taught her cubs better manners."

"I adapt my manners to my company," she retorted.

At that he laughed outright. "I begin to appreciate what Severus sees in you," he said.

"What who sees?" Her heart gave a strange sort of stutter and then resumed its normal rhythm. "What are you talking about?"

"Miss Granger, I think you would agree that you and I are in an awkward situation. I will spare you the details of how we found ourselves here, other than to admit that I am, in a very small way, at least partly, to blame."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

He made a calming motion. "Please. My intention this evening is to remedy the situation, if I can." A musical tone sounded. "Ah, our little tête-à-tête is over," he said. "The other guests have arrived. I hope you will find them congenial."

She heard voices in the hall, one of which – a familiar dark, silky tone – caught her attention and ignited a kernel of heat in her stomach. A moment later Kingsley Shacklebolt entered, in animated conversation with Augusta Longbottom, whose recent election to the Wizengamot had made headlines, but Hermione's eyes were locked on the pale-faced, dark-haired man behind them.

Seeing her, Severus stopped short for a moment, then continued into the room. He poured himself a glass of wine from the table and then stood there as if uncertain what to do.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione went to him. "I believe congratulations are in order," she said, pleased that her voice sounded nearly normal.

"You will excuse me if I don't offer them," he said coldly.

His voice was icy, and she wondered whether it was anger or indifference that had turned it back into that of a stranger. Then his words registered. "Oh! No, I wasn't asking you to congratulate me!"

Severus took a sip of wine, his eyes fixed on Lucius, who was pointing out one of the paintings to Augusta and Kingsley. "Surely acquiring a wealthy and handsome – or so I'm told – husband deserves congratulations."

"I haven't...I mean, I didn't...I won't be..." She puffed out a breath in annoyance at her own incoherence. "I'm not marrying anyone."

"No?" Now she had his full attention, and the warmth in her stomach flickered into heat as his dark eyes fastened on hers. "In that case," he said slowly, "perhaps I shall offer my congratulations after all."

Hermione looked away, confused by what she thought she saw in his expression. "Of course not, how could you – anyone – think I would marry Lucius? No, the congratulations I meant were for you."

"For me?" He stared at her, plainly puzzled.

"Yes. Lucius said your name was no longer on the list of eligible Wizards, so I assume your petition to marry...someone...has been accepted." She swallowed in a throat that was suddenly tight and painful, then added quietly, "I'm leaving England tomorrow to avoid marrying Lucius. But I don't think I could have stayed in any case. Not now."

"Hermione..." He spoke in a low, almost caressing, tone, with more emotion than she had ever heard. Her toes began to tingle and her pulse quickened. "My name should never have been on that list. I—"

He was interrupted by Kingsley's booming voice. "Lucius, I think it's about time we heard the nature of this mysterious but very important matter you've asked us here to discuss."

Severus' head jerked up, dark brows sweeping together in a frown. "I thought this was a dinner invitation," he muttered.

"So did I," Hermione whispered back, every sense suddenly alert. Malfoy deception – that had never led to any good.

"I agree, Kingsley. I shall explain." Lucius refilled his goblet then glanced around at their expectant – or, in two cases, suspicious – faces, obviously enjoying the suspense. "You are all aware of the recent Marriage Law," he began. "What some of you may not know is that Miss Granger and I have found ourselves...paired off. Through no fault of our own."

Severus snorted, and Lucius shot him a quelling glance.

Augusta turned her beady old eyes on Hermione. "What sort of nonsense is this?" she inquired in a tone of deep disapproval. Kingsley appeared equally displeased, and Hermione felt momentarily buoyed by their support, despite knowing that it made no real difference. Even Kingsley couldn't overrule Wizengamot law.

"As you suggest, it is...an untenable situation," Lucius acknowledged. "I have therefore spent two hours this morning in the archives of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement reviewing every word of W.S. 116, three interminable hours this afternoon listening to Professor Binns explain the history and legitimacy of a certain traditional exemption to such laws, and seven hundred galleons on an extremely delicate rush Potions order. And I have invited two impeccable witnesses, the Minister of Magic and the senior member of the Wizengamot." He paused and glanced around the room. "Miss Granger, you are alleged to be intelligent. Do you see where I am going with this?"

Hermione frowned, turning his words over in her mind. The only exemption to the law was...oh, surely not! "You have someone else you wish to marry and you want to attempt a Soul-Bond Test with her, in order to exempt yourselves from the law? But it's just a romantic game, it—"

"No, no, no," Lucius said impatiently. "I want _you_ to do it."

She recoiled, and thought she heard Severus beside her choke back a growl of protest. "You and me? You can't imagine it would prove _we're_ meant to be together?"

"Brightest witch of your age? Good grief, woman," Lucius muttered. "No, you silly girl. Not you and me. You and Severus."

Hermione's jaw dropped and she gaped at Lucius. From the total absence of a devastating riposte to her left, she assumed Severus was likewise struck dumb.

After a long moment Kingsley began to laugh. "Lucius, you are the most devious man I've ever met. You brought us here to witness a _Soul-Bond Test_? It's a childish game, nothing more."

Augusta, however, was nodding thoughtfully. "Don't be so sure, Kingsley. Being an old wife myself, I can vouch that there's something to be said for old wives' tales."

"But I wouldn't even know how to judge it!" Kingsley sputtered. "How would one evaluate such a thing? It's totally subjective!"

"Leave that for the moment," Lucius said quietly. "First, let us ask if they are willing."

Hermione felt her heart racing in panic. She was plunged into her worst nightmare: taking a test she wasn't prepared for. She couldn't look at Severus. What if he agreed out of pity? Or guilt? And what if – Freya forbid – it failed?

What if it didn't?

A hand gently took her arm and turned her to meet night-black eyes that seemed to see into her very soul. Severus' lips quirked in a small smile and, as if reading her mind, he leaned forward and whispered, "There's no way to study for this one, Hermione."

"Well?" Kingsley rumbled.

She couldn't tell which of them spoke first, so closely did one "Yes" follow upon the other.

***

"It's actually not subjective at all: the Law itself is the judge, all that's required are two neutral witnesses. And thanks to Professor Binns and the dedicated employees of Slug and Jiggers, I have all the necessary items." Looking exceedingly pleased with himself, Lucius cleared off one of the silver trays, reached into his robes, and withdrew a flask of blue glass, a densely-written sheet of parchment, a small silver knife, and two ribbons, one red and one green, all of which he arranged on the tray. "Miss – my apologies, _Professor_ – Granger, would you care to explain the procedure?"

Hermione nodded. Now that she was – they were – committed, she felt an immense sense of freedom.

"Each person places three drops of blood on one of the ribbons." She glanced at Lucius, amused. "I assume you've chosen red for me and green for Severus, in reference to our Houses?" He nodded in confirmation. "A copy of the Law being challenged is folded around the ribbons and sealed, and the packet signed by two witnesses. The participants drink the potion, which triggers a series of spontaneous Transfigurations. Whether the man or the woman Transfigures first is unclear – it may alternate." She was becoming absorbed in the subject despite herself. "In each case, the Law judges the second Transfiguration by how closely it complements, supplements or matches the first. The process continues for several minutes, until the Transfigurations cease as spontaneously as they began."

"And how do we know if the challenge is successful?" Kingsley asked.

She took a deep breath. "If successful, the copy of the law surrounding the ribbons burns to ash, leaving the ribbons unharmed, signifying that the man and woman are free of the law's constraints."

"Professor Binns himself could not have explained it better," Lucius said approvingly. "Shall we begin?"

With great ceremony – but a mischievous glint in his eye – he picked up the knife and nicked Hermione's finger, blotting three drops of her blood onto the red ribbon, then repeated the process with Severus and the green ribbon. He took the closely-written parchment, which Hermione could now see was a notarized copy of W.S.116, folded it carefully around the ribbons, and sealed it with wax. Kingsley took a quill and scrawled his bold inch-high signature across the flap. Augusta followed suit, hers small and clear as copperplate, then both of them stepped back, leaving a large clear space around the table.

"Lovely." Lucius laid the square of parchment in the center of the tray. He broke the wax seal on the blue flask, poured half of it into each of two goblets, and handed one to Hermione and the other to Severus. " _Bonne chance_ ," he said with a wicked grin, and stepped back to stand between the two witnesses.

Hermione looked into her goblet. The potion shifted colors, grass-green, silvery-white, dusty rose. An odd scent rose from it, unidentifiable but not unpleasant; it raised the hair on the back of her neck and made her skin tingle.

"Hermione," Severus said quietly, and she closed her eyes at the pleasure of her name on his lips. She had been Miss Granger, and then Dr Granger, but until tonight she had never been Hermione. Or perhaps she had, and she had simply not known.

She opened her eyes and raised her glass towards him. He echoed her motion and then, as one, they drank.

She gasped and her eyes went wide for a moment, and then she was lost to conscious thought. It was as if the universe had turned itself inside out; instead of being contained in the world, she had the whole world within her. There were no walls, no room, but she could sense another presence there with her. 

With a leap and a twist, she became falcon, flying alone and swift as thought, higher and higher into the pure blue sky, and beneath her wings was the wind, supporting her, surrounding her, lifting her aloft but allowing her to plunge at will, a wild thing at home in its embrace.

Another twist and she became a hare, racing across a green field, and beside her ran a lean black hound, but rather than trying to catch her it urged her to greater speed, matching her stride for stride and turn for turn, both of them running for the sheer joy of it.

She was a tree in spring, stretching branches skyward, the sun dazzling her, warming her...but slowly it began to parch her, until the rain came and every drop was like gentle fingers caressing her, soothing her, refreshing her.

And then all physical being was gone and she was nothing but music, dancing notes pouring forth, rising into the air; she stretched her senses, reaching for the other that she knew must be there, and found a black fiddle, playing her over and over in infinite variations. And she knew the tune.

With that, Hermione was back in the room at the Manor and before her stood Severus, his warm hands clasping hers, the wind and the dog and the rain and the music in his eyes, and she laughed aloud for pure joy. _Once more?_ her eyes asked, and he smiled. Their shapes flowed and changed and where Hermione had stood was a tall, dark-haired man in black robes, with a hooked nose and eyes like pools of ink; where Severus had stood was a slender brown-eyed girl with hair that was no longer bushy in the slightest. Unable to tell where he left off and she began, the two of them leaned forward and kissed each other, and were themselves again.

Neither of them noticed that the parchment on the silver tray had burned itself to ash, and that the red and green ribbons, still bright and fresh, had woven themselves so tightly together that it was impossible to see that they were not one.

***

Later that night – very late – Lucius stood in the main hall to bid goodnight to his last two guests.

Kingsley and Augusta had left shortly after the successful Soul-Bond Test, Kingsley promising to register Hermione's exemption from the Marriage Law at the Ministry the next day and Augusta with a quick hug for Hermione and an approving nod for Severus. Severus and Hermione had clearly been in no condition to Apparate just yet, and Lucius had insisted on at least an hour's quiet recovery. With uncharacteristic sensitivity, he had excused himself and left them alone.

Now, seeing them together, tired but obviously happy, Lucius had no need to guess what they had said to each other.

He opened the door for them. "Travel safely."

Severus took Lucius' hand. "Thank you," he said simply.

Lucius nodded, then he leaned down and kissed Hermione on the cheek. "The last time you were here, my house and my family brought you nothing but pain," he said softly, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. "I am glad to have been able to bring you joy."

A moment later they were gone, and Lucius stood in the doorway alone, listening to the late fall air skittering dry leaves down the stone steps in the dark.  


** THE END **

  


**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: Of the three prompts given, I combined #2 and #3: (2) "Something inspired by "The Twa Magicians" - Childe Ballad verses [here](http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch044.htm) and Steeleye Span's spiffy version [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNgvzxRCyQU). (3) "The Marriage Law Oopsie: With the war over, Wizarding Britain is worried about the rise in Squibs. In typical Slytherin fashion, Lucius connives to get his friend the girl of his dreams. He moves behind the scenes to get a Marriage Law passed requiring all Muggle-born witches to marry Purebloods. Lucius, recently widowed/divorced, petitions for Hermione. He engineers out all other escape routes in order to send her fleeing to Severus's offer. Finally, with time getting down to the wire for Hermione to accept another proposal or have to marry him, Lucius gets fed up and tells Snape to offer for Hermione, already. It seems our Sev has kept some things to himself. "What do you *mean* you aren't a pureblood?"


End file.
